


Five Times Elizabeth Doesn't Know What to Say

by Peanutbutterer



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-27
Updated: 2011-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer





	Five Times Elizabeth Doesn't Know What to Say

\--1

Elizabeth rests her hip against the doorframe, a fresh jug of wine clutched loosely in her grasp.

“It really is a bit embarrassing the way you get all girly around Colonel Mitchell,” Rodney comments, continuing a conversation for which Elizabeth has clearly missed the beginning.

“You exaggerate, Rodney,” Teyla defends, though she ducks her head slightly to hide a faint blush.

John grins widely. “Don’t worry, he’s just trying to deflect our keen observations as to his woefully obvious crush and ridiculously schoolboy demeanor when in the presence of one Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter.”

“There’s nothing of relevance to observe,” Rodney insists. “The colonel and I have a professional, working relationship. SG-1’s visits are exciting to me only because I have the opportunity to interact with an intellectual worthy of conversation.”

“Right,” John leans toward Teyla conspiratorially, “intellectual stimulation. That’s it.”

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you,” Rodney counters. “You’re more of a smitten puppy than either of us.”

Immediately Elizabeth’s interest is peaked. “John?” she asks, shoving away from the door. “You’re smitten with someone?”

All conversation stops and every head in the room swivels to stare as she approaches.

John looks particularly stunned. When he finally responds, his denial is laced with an uncharacteristic hesitancy. “No I’m not.” As she watches he appears to sink lower in his seat.

Elizabeth tops off her glass before handing the bottle to Teyla. Any person with a smidgen of decency would take warning at the look on his face, but Elizabeth continues to stare at him expectantly. “Vala?” she guesses, causing McKay to snort.

John winces before letting his eyes fix on Rodney. His icy stare is matched by his low, dangerous tone. “No.”

Elizabeth lowers herself onto the couch and considers John carefully. He’s uncomfortable, that fact is certain, and his gaze flits about the room as if he’s actively avoiding making contact with anyone. She smiles at the realization that he truly is infatuated and, just as clearly, he’s embarrassed by it. Her eyes narrow slightly. “It isn’t Carter, is it?”

John shakes his head before finishing off the last of his drink and returning his glass to the table. “This is ridiculous. I’m not smitten with anyone.” He aims another pointed look at McKay and snatches the bottle from Teyla. “Just because Rodney and Teyla are acting like children doesn’t mean that I am too.”

“Oh, right.” Rodney rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a crush. Your love is pure.”

“Love?” Teyla echoes. “I was not aware it was love, but now that you say it, it does seem as though...”

“It’s not,” John snaps defensively.

Elizabeth lifts an eyebrow and shifts in her seat to face him. “What’s not?”

“What I -” he cuts himself off and scrubs a hand over his face.

She almost had him.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat and continues, “there is nothing. I feel nothing. Can we move on? Let’s talk about Teyla and Mitchell again, that was fun.”

“Oh, so I can’t use that to deflect your baseless claims about Colonel Carter and myself, but when you don’t want to talk about your crush on Elizabeth it’s –” Rodney’s mouth stays open but the sound abruptly stops as he realizes exactly what it is that he’s said.

For her part, Elizabeth doesn’t move; she can’t even blink, floored by the implications of what Rodney let slip. It’s all she can do not to fall over from shock. Her eyes dart to John who is desperately searching for some avenue of escape – possibly the floor opening up to swallow him whole.

Suddenly she’s unsure of her footing. She swallows hard. “I didn’t –” she stops herself before stating the obvious. “I don’t –” she stops again, unwilling to lie. “John, I –” she cuts off a third time as her breath catches.

“Perhaps,” Teyla offers mercifully, “I do have a small crush on Colonel Mitchell.”

 

\--2

 

Elizabeth slaps her palm against the door repeatedly. “Open up! Open up!”

By the time it slides away to reveal a rather dubious looking John, Elizabeth is already bouncing on the balls of her feet and clearly fighting the urge to rub her hands together in anxious anticipation. He looks her over with no small amount of trepidation. “What are you doing?” he asks warily.

“Come on,” she says gleefully, motioning for him to follow, “we’re going to get them this time!”

John shakes his head before snagging his vest and jogging to catch up. “Yeah, maybe if you didn’t make more noise than an angry stampede and alert all of Atlantis of what we’re up to.”

She shrugs helplessly as they step into the transporter. “Sorry, I got excited.”

John selects their destination from the panel and tugs on his vest. He glances at her from the corner of his eye and tries valiantly to suppress his grin. “I really should have picked a different partner-in-crime.”

“Please,” she says on a whisper as they step out into the hallway, “like Rodney can do stealth better than I can.” As if to prove her point she hunches slightly and starts to tip-toe.

John barks a laugh and she slaps him on the arm. “Shh. We’re sneaking,” she scolds, pressing her back firmly to the wall.

He takes his cue and attempts to focus, craning his neck around the corner.

“Do you see anyone?” she asks softly.

He pulls back and gives a single shake of his head before retrieving a life signs detector from his vest. A pair of dots bleeps in one corner of the screen. “Just the two.”

Elizabeth nods and starts to push off the wall.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, snagging her wrist. “We’ve got a bogie incoming.”

She hitches a breath and steps closer to peer down at the screen. “It’s coming right for us!” She looks up at him, eyes wide with fear. “We have to hide.”

“Hide?” he repeats, then pointedly scans their surroundings. “Where do you suggest we hide?”

“Oh, like you have a brilliant idea?”

His eyes rake over her dangerously. “Actually,” he drawls and takes a step forward, only to be halted by a firm hand on his chest.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. “John, you are not going to press me into the wall and pretend to make-out with me,” she explains as her voice slips into a barely audible whisper. When he visibly deflates she only grins. “Besides the fact that it wouldn’t do anything to conceal us, it would completely defeat the purpose of this exercise.”

“And what exactly is that again?” he whispers back, placing the flat of his palms to the wall on either side of her head.

She glances deliberately at the placement of his hands. “To prove that Major Lorne is the Kirk of Atlantis, not you.”

John tilts his head thoughtfully. “But if I wasn’t concerned about the title you’d let me kiss you?” he asks innocently, leaning a bit further into her space.

She’s just working up to her scathing reply when she hears the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

“Oh my god,” she hisses, tugging on his vest. “Someone’s coming! What are we going to do?”

“I’ll protect you,” he says in a deep hero voice, grabbing her by the shoulders and walking her back into the shadows. “Have no fear.” He tosses off a mock salute before taking two long strides into the middle of hallway. “Hey Radek,” he greets jovially.

Zelenka nods. “Evening, Colonel. Doctor Weir.”

Elizabeth stays in the corner but lifts her hand in a small, awkward wave. “Hi.”

As the scientist disappears down the corridor John pulls himself up next to her and wipes a hand across his brow. “Whew. That was close.”

She fights the urge to slap him again and instead grabs the life signs detector from his hands. Content that the imminent danger has passed, Elizabeth resumes her covert trek toward the two blinking dots.

“It better be a scientist,” John whispers as he follows her down the hallway.

Elizabeth frowns. “Are you suggesting that if he’s fraternizing with someone in the military you’re going to report him?”

John shakes his head. “Hell no. I’m just afraid that if the woman is combat trained she’ll kick our asses.”

Elizabeth chokes on her laugh and then glares at John.

“Either way,” he continues, “I’m going to have to write him up for improper use of a storage facility. Clandestine booty calls are totally against regulations.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t tried – ”

“Hey!” He attempts to sound indignant. “Let’s remember that I’m the victim in all this. Lorne is littering the city with women’s underthings and everyone is blaming me!” He blinks puppy eyes at her. “I thought you were on my side.”

“Right,” she nods and gives him a knowing smile, “I am. You’re innocent of the city-wide underthing dispersal.”

As they near the storage closet they can’t help but hear the unmistakable sound of a woman groaning and – yeah, Elizabeth winces – a man moaning.

“I just don’t get why he doesn’t stick to his quarters,” she muses softly as they come to a stop in front of the door. “It can’t be comfortable in there.”

John looks her over appraisingly and opens his mouth to respond before seeing her glare and quickly clamping it shut. “I wouldn’t know.” He grins. “Yet.”

She sighs and waves her hand. “Just do your gene thing and open this, will you.”

He swipes a palm over the controls and the door slides open, spilling light into the small, cramped space.

“Rodney?” John squeaks.

The scientist squints into the light. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Is there something we can do for you?” Teyla inquires.

Elizabeth’s jaw unhinges.

“Uh, no,” John answers after a moment. “No, no. As you were.” As the door closes he turns to Elizabeth. “Well, I suppose it still proves my innocence.”

 

\--3

 

Elizabeth barely makes it through the threshold of her office before she can no longer hold her tongue. “You disobeyed a direct order, Colonel.”

“It was a stupid order, _Doctor_ ,” John hisses, trailing her into the room.

She moves behind her desk and leans forward, her palms steaming the glass of the table. “That is not your decision to make! When I tell you what to do, you _do_ it!”

He scoffs with indignant defiance and begins to pace, his body vibrating with barely-suppressed anger. “So if you tell me to run naked through the halls, I do it without question?”

“If I ordered it, yes!” They’re making a scene but neither seems to care.

His voice rises to match hers. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!”

“If I tell you to do something, there is obviously a legitimate reason and I expect results!”

John stops abruptly and pivots to face her, seething with fury. “What could possibly require me to run naked through the halls?”

“How the hell should I know?” Elizabeth gives him a suffering look and pushes away from the desk impatiently. “It was your stupid hypothetical order!”

John shakes his head angrily before folding his arms across his chest. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to settle himself. “This is a waste of an argument. I did what I had to do and I got the job done.”

“You could have gotten the job done if you’d followed my orders.”

“We don’t know that,” he grounds out through clenched teeth.

She throws her hands up in frustration. “Because you didn’t follow them!”

John steps toward her, leaning on the desk in a mirror of her earlier stance. His tone is as civil as he can manage. “Why are you fighting me on this? What’s done is done.”

After a few calming breaths she attempts a rational reply. “This isn’t just about today. You don’t listen to me, John.”

“Yes I do.”

“Only when it suits you.”

He gives her a warning look but she isn’t paying attention.

“That’s bullshit, Elizabeth, and you know it.” He pushes a hand through his hair; the anger is bubbling again.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he insists more vehemently than he intends.

“John, the last few months…”

The comment knocks him hard in the chest. His hands clench into tight white balls and his eyes bore into her with a force she’s seldom felt from him. “Don’t you dare make this about that.”

“How can I not? Ever since – ”

“That’s crap,” he cuts her off, his fist pounding her desk, rattling her collection of ridiculous figurines.

Elizabeth inhales slowly, trying to steel her emotions, and her reply is carefully controlled. “We need to talk about this, John.”

His eyes widen in shock before quickly narrowing to slits, at once challenging and dangerous. “Oh, now you want to talk? Now you want to talk? You haven’t looked me in the eye for three months and now you want to have a little heart-to-heart? Fine. Let’s talk.” His intensity is fierce and he steps closer until they’re only inches apart. “I didn’t just sleep with you for the hell of it, Elizabeth. I slept with you because I’m in love with you – so deeply and completely that there was no other way to express it.” His shoulders rise and fall with his heaving breaths and his voice is tight with emotion. “And you don’t give a shit.”

She opens her mouth to respond but finds that she has no words.

He stands there for a moment, eyes alight with fire, before turning and making his way to the door. When he reaches it he pauses to look over his shoulder. “You just remember who wanted to talk.”

 

\--4

 

“I don’t think it will continue to be a problem.”

Elizabeth closes the lid of her laptop and leans back in her chair to appraise him thoughtfully. Normally she would just let the matter go, but something about the way John is carrying himself in this instance makes her suspicious. “While I find your assurances mildly comforting, I’d still like to talk with them myself.”

John scrunches his face in an expression that lands somewhere between uncomfortable and nervous.

“John,” she prompts with two raised eyebrows.

“I um… I kind of promised them you’d leave it alone.”

Confusion creases her forehead and she leans forward in her seat. “What? Why?”

“Well,” he shrugs one shoulder in feigned nonchalance before the rest of the sentence tumbles quickly from his mouth, “they’re a little afraid of you.”

Okay, she didn't see that coming. “O’Brien and Taylor?”

He winces a little before answering quietly, “The marines in general.”

“All of them?”

John opens his mouth to respond but instead is cut off by a piercing wail. Turning in his seat, he watches curiously as the door to Elizabeth’s office slides open to allow entry to a rather tormented looking McKay awkwardly balancing a tiny bundle in his grasp.

“Rodney, what on –” Elizabeth begins but stops short when he thrusts the screaming infant toward her. She leans back instinctively and puts both hands up to ward him off.

“Take her,” McKay pleads, stepping forward with his charge at arm’s length. “For the love of everything holy, take her.” Red faced and white fisted, the baby dangles precariously over Elizabeth’s lap, tears tumbling rapidly down her wet, chubby cheeks.

Elizabeth fights the urge to roll her chair back until it’s flush with the wall. “I don’t think I’m –”

The baby shrieks again and Elizabeth recoils, barely biting back a cry of her own.

Rodney swivels to John. “Help,” he implores pathetically.

“Jesus, you two,” John says, abandoning his chair and relieving Rodney of the crying infant. “It’s a baby, not a bomb.”

John tucks one arm under the child’s bottom and runs the thumb of his free hand up and down her tiny back in gentle, rhythmic strokes. Elizabeth watches from a distance as her military commander proceeds to whisper indistinguishable comforts into the baby’s ear, bouncing her lightly and soothing the wails into small, distressed hiccups.

“Oh, thank god.” Rodney sighs, dropping into John’s chair with a melodramatic flair. “I was certain that thing would never shut up.”

Tearing her eyes away from the sight of John with a baby, Elizabeth fixes her attention on Rodney. “Why in the world did you bring her to me?”

Rodney shrugs. “Teyla had to go to the mainland and Major Lorne is off-world. Nina – Nadia?”

“Nya,” Elizabeth supplies.

“– needed a babysitter.”

“The real question,” John whispers, maintaining his soft, soothing tone, “is why they entrusted a four month old to you.”

“What you mean to ask is why they entrusted her to you,” Rodney corrects, levering himself to a standing position and scrambling toward the door. “I have scientific experiments to oversee. Teyla should be back in an hour or two,” he calls over his shoulder.

“McKay –” John starts, but the scientist is already on the far side of the gangway. “Well,” he turns to Elizabeth, “looks like we’ve gotten ourselves saddled with a munchkin.”

Elizabeth shakes her head and stands, grabbing at the files on her desk – she doesn’t actually know what she will do with them once she has them, but she feels the need to look busy.

“No,” she clears her throat and fixes a serious expression, “I don't think so, Colonel. You’re on your own with this one.” Heaving the stack of papers into her arms, she ducks her head and makes her way toward the door.

John blocks her path as she rounds the desk. “Oh no you don’t.” He grabs her forearm before she can escape. “We’re in this together.”

She shakes him off and makes a move to step around him but he continues to obstruct her way out. “I didn’t sign up for this, John.”

“Neither did I.”

“Really,” she insists, “I think it’s better if you handle this one on your own.”

John’s hand returns to the baby’s back as her small head lulls in the beginnings of sleep. “Come on, Elizabeth.” He drops his cheek to Nya’s head. “She’s just a baby. It’ll be relaxing.”

Elizabeth raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Okay,” he amends, “not relaxing, but fun.

“Anyway,” he continues absently, mesmerized by the child’s peaceful face, “you really are going to have to get used to the idea of babies around here. This little lady may be the first but she certainly won’t be the last. We’re going to have to have ourselves a boy just to piss Lorne off.” He chuckles to himself, causing Nya to gurgle and Elizabeth to wonder who exactly he means by ‘we.’ “Can you imagine when they get to dating age? We’re going to have to make sure the major is cut off from the armory when our son first asks Nya out.”

“Our…” The single strangled word escapes her lips but John continues as if she hasn’t spoken.

“I think I’ll be a pretty reasonable father – though we’ll have to agree that if we have a girl she’s not allowed to date any spawns of the McKay variety. That’d just be wrong on fundamental levels.”

Her mouth snaps shut as soon as she realizes it’s hanging open. “We?” she chokes after a moment’s pause.

“You and me,” he responds as if the answer is obvious. “Hey, did you hear that Ronon and Heightmeyer are expecting? That kid will have one crazy head of hair… Elizabeth? Are you okay? You’re looking a bit pale. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll practice changing a diaper.”

 

\--5

 

The blinding white light she can handle, but the pressure squeezing at her insides is pushing her over the edge.

“Rodney,” she croaks when she finds her breath, “what the hell did you do?”

Elizabeth blinks a few times in an attempt to clear her vision before turning on wobbly legs to find McKay leaning over the table with his head in his hands.

“I think I’m going to puke,” comes the muffled response.

She considers telling him that it’s his own damn fault but thinks better of it. It’s probably just the nausea making her irritable.

She activates her comm and calls for a med team but is answered only by static. That’s never a good sign.

McKay moans and stomach acid rises in her throat.

She rubs at her eyes again before pushing herself upright and heading toward Rodney. “Come on,” she says hoarsely, snaking an arm around his waist and prying him from the table. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

As they struggle down the hall a hint of eerie foreboding washes over her, though she’s hard pressed to determine its source. It’s not as if they’ve never suffered through explosions in the pursuit of understanding Ancient technology. She’s walking, she’s talking and Rodney is still here with her. But she senses that this is somehow… different.

“Rodney,” she asks hesitantly, “do you feel like something’s… a little off?”

“Besides my equilibrium?” he asks rhetorically.

“What exactly was that artifact supposed to do?”

Rodney pinches the bridge of his nose as they round the corner and enter the infirmary. “As far as I can tell its sole purpose is to make me physically ill.” He stops dramatically in the doorframe. “Carson, I’m dying!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Beckett answers, but makes his way across the room anyway. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Rodney?”

As McKay describes his symptoms in detail, Elizabeth settles herself on the nearest bed and rests a hand on her churning stomach. The pressure is still making her head throb and she knows without a doubt that she won’t be able to stay upright much longer. Putting her head between her legs, she makes herself take slow, even breaths and attempts to will the discomfort away.

Footsteps draw near and Carson’s voice echoes loudly in her ears. “Elizabeth, love, are you all right?”

“I don’t think so.” She would shake her head but she imagines that would only make things worse.

“Rodney tells me you two were playing with Ancient technology and it’s resulted in a good deal of nausea. I’ve given him some trimethobenzamide which will hopefully settle things down a fair bit.” He drops his hand to her shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Why don’t you lie back and we’ll do the same for you.”

Elizabeth obliges, stretching out fully and resting her head on a soft pillow as the chaos of the infirmary swirls around her. Closing her eyes she focuses again on her breathing and the steady rise and fall of her chest, letting darkness swallow the spin of the room.

The infirmary bed shifts as a light weight settles near her feet. Elizabeth pries one eye open and discovers a young girl, no more than four, perched tentatively on the mattress.

“Hello,” Elizabeth’s voice is wary. She is certain she would know if the Daedalus had dropped children off on its last supply run.

“Hi!” the girl responds brightly and then quickly covers her mouth with her hands. Her eyes are wide but she slides her tiny fingers down a little and whispers, “Uncle Carson told me I couldn’t talk!”

Elizabeth can’t help but smile. “I won’t tell him you did,” she promises.

“I might,” John says, sweeping up the child and causing a small squeal of laughter. “You, my little rugrat,” he continues as she settles into his arms, “were supposed to let your mommy get some rest.”

Elizabeth’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach and she swears that she just stopped breathing. Mommy? What did Rodney do?

“I didn’t do it!” the girl defends. “She talked to me first!”

“A likely story,” he counters, tapping her nose and depositing her gently on the ground. “Why don’t you go check on Uncle Rodney?”

The girl nods, trotting away merrily, and John approaches Elizabeth, sitting down carefully on the side of her bed. He sweeps a wisp of hair from her face and frowns in concern. “Carson told me what happened. You feeling any better?”

“I… I, um.” Her eyes trail to Rodney’s bed where a dark head of curls and bright expressive eyes have captured the physicist’s attention. “I…”

“Honey,” John says, his voice thick with worry. “Are you all right?”

Is she all right? No. Yes. Maybe. No. Yes. Oh, god.


End file.
